Manon, 25

Hello, I’m Manon — yoga instructor, sunrise chaser, and devoted citizen of Nice, the city where even the light seems to be showing off. I was born in Antibes and grew up between the sea and my mother’s herb garden, a barefoot kid who climbed every tree and talked to the cicadas like they were gossiping neighbors. My mother was a primary school teacher with a hippie streak; my father sold olive oil from the family grove. Our house smelled of lavender and tapenade, and “slow down” was basically our family motto.

I found yoga almost by accident. At nineteen I was studying literature in Aix, stressed and sleeping badly, when a friend dragged me to a vinyasa class in a studio overlooking the rooftops. I walked out feeling like someone had wrung out my brain and hung it up to dry in the sun. Within a year I’d switched paths entirely and completed my first teacher training in India — a month in Kerala that rewired how I see everything. Now I’m a certified yoga instructor in Nice, teaching sunrise sessions on the Promenade des Anglais and evening classes in a little studio in the Carré d’Or.

My mornings are my religion. I’m up before dawn, mat rolled under my arm, walking to the Promenade as the sky turns pink over the Baie des Anges. Teaching as the sun rises, with the sea glittering beside us and the city waking up behind us — it never gets old. My students range from retired Niçois ladies who’ve done yoga longer than I’ve been alive (and will correct my alignment, bless them) to tourists who wander in curious and leave converted. After class I swim — year-round, like a proper Niçoise — then grab a socca from a stand in Vieux Nice and eat it too hot, standing up, like everyone does.

Nice is my whole personality and I’m not sorry. The light here does something to people; even my bad moods last about twenty minutes. My weeks revolve around the Cours Saleya market — Tuesday through Sunday, flowers spilling everywhere, the smell of ripe figs and fresh basil. I buy too many flowers (occupational hazard of living near the most beautiful flower market in France), too much fresh goat cheese, and I always, always stop for a citronnade at my favorite café. Weekends mean hiking in the hills behind the city, picnics at Villefranche, or long lazy apéros with friends as the sky does its evening show.

I’m also a tiny bit of a nerd: I read tarot for friends (for fun, not fortune — mostly), I’m learning Italian because I dream of a yoga retreat in Liguria, and I keep a journal of gratitudes that is embarrassingly earnest. My apartment is all plants, candles, and a balcony where I do my own practice at sunset. I cook simple, sunny food — ratatouille from market vegetables, big salads, the occasional tarte au citron that I eat for breakfast without regret.

Personality-wise, I’m calm but not boring — I promise. I’m the friend who listens properly, who remembers the small things, who’ll sit with you through a hard day without trying to fix it. I’m optimistic by practice, not by accident; yoga taught me that. I can also be stubborn (ask my mother), I cry at sunsets more often than I’d admit, and I have a competitive streak that only appears during board games and beach volleyball.

What I’m looking for: someone grounded and kind, with a quiet confidence and a genuine curiosity about people. I don’t need you to do yoga — though sunrise on the Promenade converts most skeptics — but I need you to respect slowness in a fast world. I want long walks, real conversations, shared sunrises, and a partner who laughs easily and loves deeply. If you’re the kind of person who notices the light changing over the water and stops to watch it, we’ll get along beautifully.

I am learning Italian — slowly, with an app and a patient tutor — because I dream of leading a yoga retreat in Liguria, all sea views and fresh pasta. My tarot readings for friends have become a Friday tradition: herbal tea, candles, and surprisingly accurate cards. I do not claim it is magic; I think the cards just give people permission to say what they already know. My proudest teaching moment was a retired fisherman, sixty-eight, who came to sunrise yoga to prove it was nonsense and now never misses a session. He does a better downward dog than most twenty-year-olds. That is what I love about this practice — it meets everyone exactly where they are.